by Morgana Best
Tiny had appeared on the edge of the gully, and clearly, Gigi found him highly attractive. Gigi took off toward the edge of the gully, and both dogs disappeared out of sight.
“Watch them!” Cynthia screamed at Mr. Buttons.
“You want me to watch them?” Mr. Buttons asked. I had no idea why he was puzzled, but after Cynthia screamed even more loudly, “Yes, watch them!” Mr. Buttons hurried into the gully.
I tried to help Cynthia to her feet, but abandoned that idea after she called me a few words that would even make my cockatoo blush.
So I stood there, waiting for Mr. Buttons to capture Tiny and return, trying not to watch Cynthia as she climbed to her feet. I knew that Tiny had not been neutered yet, as he had a little abnormality and was on medication. Once that worked, he could be neutered. I hoped Mr. Buttons caught Tiny before the inevitable happened, but judging by the sound of rustling bushes at the bottom of the gully, I figured that the inevitable was already in process.
After what seemed an age, Mr. Buttons appeared, with Gigi in his arms and Tiny on the leash.
Cynthia snatched Gigi from Mr. Buttons’ arms. “What happened?” she screamed.
“Yes, I can confirm,” Mr. Buttons said, nodding his head.
I was puzzled, and was about to ask what he meant, but Cynthia beat me to it. “What do you mean? Confirm?” she bellowed, clutching her little dog to her chest.
It was Mr. Buttons’ turn to look confused. “You told me to watch,” he said. “I thought that was strange, but I did as you asked. I did watch, and so I can confirm that Gigi and Tiny will be parents in the coming months.”
Cynthia’s complexion turned from white, to green, to purple-red, all within seconds. She then let out a stream of expletives, and finished by screaming words which included sue and lawyers, before storming off.
“She’s a strange one,” Mr. Buttons muttered.
I just stood there. What could I say?
The heavy presence still hung on the air when I dropped off Mr. Buttons and Tiny at the boarding house and continued down to my cottage. It was with a sense of dread that I let Sandy into the back yard after her morning walk and headed back up to the boarding house. I waved to Greg, who was just setting out on his daily walk.
I walked inside to see a busy Cressida running around this way and that, clutching papers in her hand.
“Morning,” I said.
Cressida looked up at me for a moment, but her eyes fell back to her notepad. She scribbled furiously, before looking back at me and smiling. “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to make sure everything is just perfect so that horrible Franklin Greer will have no excuse for shutting the place down. It’s so stressful,” she groaned.
“Look on the bright side,” I said, in an attempt to cheer her up. “No annoying guests to deal with other than Greg.”
Cressida put her papers and pen on a nearby burr walnut credenza, and rubbed her temples. “There’s just so much work that goes into preparing for a huge inspection like this. They could find any stupid, little thing. Even something as small as a faulty wire could shut us down for months, and cost tons in renovations and repairs. I just want it to go smoothly and have nothing else crazy happen. At least for a few days!” Cressida took a deep gulp of air before sinking into the nearby worn, Victorian grandmother chair. Its upholstery had seen better days, but that was the least of Cressida’s worries.
I leaned against the credenza, careful to avoid the fortune’s worth of Mary Gregory ruby glass that adorned every available space. “It’ll all work out. We’ll be fine in the end,” I said lamely.
Just then, I heard Mr. Buttons’ voice outside. Another voice joined his. It sounded more like painful moans than conversation. The door flew open to reveal Mr. Buttons helping a dirty, disheveled Greg into the boarding house.
“Someone almost killed me!” Greg yelled. He separated himself from Mr. Buttons and stepped forward, limping badly. “I’m not sure who it was, but I saw the make and model of the car, and got most of the license plate. I’m a number off, but I think that should be enough for the police. I just couldn’t tell if the last digit was a three or an eight. It all happened so fast.” He took a deep breath and wiped some dirt from his face.
Cressida and I looked at each other before both turning toward Mr. Buttons. The three of us traded glances, clearly trying to tell each other how shocked we were without uttering a single word. “Are you hurt?” Cressida asked him, clearly concerned.
“Yes, of course I’m hurt,” Greg snapped. “I just told you that someone tried to kill me!” He was hunched over in a semi-standing position with his hands on his knees. After a few quiet moments, he stood slowly before speaking again. “It was a dark blue Honda Civic. It looked like a newer model, and I got most of the license plate, but not all of it. I was lucky to see it at all, as the car drove straight for me. I only avoided the thing ‘cause I jumped out of the way at the very last second.”
“Greg, sit down, dear,” Cressida said, as she walked closer to him. She gently gripped his hand and led him to the grandmother chair on which she had been sitting. “We’ll get Blake down here so you can file a report.”
“I’ll call Blake right now,” I said, pulling out my phone. I stepped away from the others, as the phone continued to ring.
“Hello, Sergeant Blake Wessley.”
“Hi,” I said, feeling my cheeks turn red. “I was just calling to let you know that we have a situation. Looks like another crazy thing happened already.”
“Excuse me?” he said, clearly confused.
“Greg just went out for a walk and someone tried to run him over,” I blurted.
“Really? Well, I’ll head down there now to take a report.”
“Thanks, Blake.” I ended the call and rejoined the group.
Greg was still talking about the incident as I approached. “I swear, they were trying to take me out, whoever it was. Maniac!” His voice rose in volume. “First they tried to make it look like a simple accident, but since that backfired and hit the wrong target, the murderer’s going all out to get the job done. This is ridiculous! Those tree hugging hipsters need to be run out of this town!” He waved his hands in the air dramatically.
“I just got off the phone with Blake, and he’s on his way,” I said. “Greg, shouldn’t we call an ambulance or take you to the hospital?”
Greg shook his head. “Thank you, but no,” he said. “I’ll be fine. I’m just stiff and sore.”
I watched Greg as Cressida fussed over him, trying in vain to make him agree to go to the hospital. He was covered with dirt and had several rips and tears in his clothing. There was a black mark on his face, but I couldn’t tell if it was a bruise or simply dirt.
When Blake arrived, Greg once again went into detail about his near miss, and how he maneuvered out of the way just in time to avoid being hit, and thus either killed or seriously wounded.
“I think there’s a strong chance the same person just tried to kill me a second time,” Greg said, through clenched teeth.
Blake nodded, and then turned to Cressida. “So, I heard there was another issue here recently also. Something about the victim’s missing shoes?”
“Oh, yes. It was just a big misunderstanding, but we sorted it all out. We have the shoes bagged in that brown container right there,” Cressida said calmly, pointing to a bag at the front door.
“Okay, thank you. I’ll be taking those into evidence. What can you tell me about them and how they were taken?”
“Our cook, Dorothy, and Lisa had a bit of an argument the night before she died. Greg noticed that Lisa’s shoes were missing and mentioned it to me, and after a little digging, we found them. Dorothy stole the shoes so she could prank Lisa with some stinky fish or something. When the body was found soon after, Dorothy panicked and cleaned the shoes before returning them to the Lost and Found.”
“Is Dorothy here right now?” Blake said. “I’d like to have a word with her, if I may.”
&n
bsp; “She has the afternoon off, but she’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Cressida,” Blake said. “I just have one question that’s bothering me. Did the protesters who were boarding here get forced out by the council?”
“Yes,” she said.
Blake jotted down some notes in his pad and looked back up, his face partially obstructed from my view. He leaned forward. “I don’t know what happened, but I will find out.”
Chapter 17.
Jeeves was a model client: polite, well-mannered, and easy to talk to. And his owner was a dear as well. Rebecca Williams was the wife of the only lawyer in Little Tatterford. Jed, her husband, had a well-deserved reputation as an ambulance chaser. Cressida had to block his numbers after he habitually called her after every crisis. I could count myself lucky that I’d been fortunate enough not to run into Jed during Jeeves’s grooming sessions.
Rebecca, unlike her husband, was quiet and shy. She was sweet and absolutely doted on her bulldog, Jeeves. The dog was like a son to her. Rebecca arranged play dates and even baked him organic dog treats from a recipe she had found online. She even paid me extra for a special order of a specific brand of shampoo, meant for humans, for Jeeves’s grooming sessions. The shampoo I had in stock was in fact better, but I had found out long ago that many animal owners preferred their own unsubstantiated beliefs to proven facts.
Rebecca liked to chat while I groomed Jeeves, and I always allowed her to do so. It was difficult to groom long haired dogs when owners wanted to stay and talk, but as Jeeves was short haired, his regular treatment was simply a shampoo, condition, and toe nail clip.
“Jeeves looks so happy,” Rebecca said, as she offered me a glass. “I hope you like strawberry lemonade. I found an all-natural recipe I was dying to try out.”
“Thanks,” I said, as I accepted the glass and took a small sip before setting it down to finish brushing Jeeves. Rebecca was handy with home made things, although I always thought that she might be trying a little too hard to impress. I imagined it got lonely in her big house while her husband was working long hours. “How have things been?” I asked her.
“Great!” Rebecca said quickly, although she gave a wistful sigh. “I just hope that Jed remembers to take time off for our anniversary next week. He’s always so busy. I really don’t know how he keeps up with it all. It makes my head swim.”
“I can imagine,” I said with sympathy. “I’m sure he has a dozen reminders around everywhere to take a break for your anniversary.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” Rebecca chewed on her bottom lip and then gave a dry laugh. “Ah well, just as long as the whole thing with that land development deal doesn’t give him any wild ideas. That man is going to make millions off his wife’s death.”
“Greg?” I gasped and nearly dropped the expensive bottle of shampoo. I swung around to look at Rebecca in surprise. The woman blinked and gasped as her mind caught up with her chatter.
“Oh, don’t pay me any mind. I shouldn’t be saying anything about that.” Rebecca waved her hand in a nervous flurry.
“But how is Greg going to make millions off his wife’s death?” I asked in confusion.
Rebecca stared at me in fright. “I don’t know any details, Sibyl.” She made a half laughing, half choking sound. “Please, Sibyl, please, please don’t mention anything about it. Everything clients tell my husband is supposed to be confidential. Jed would be furious if he found out that I blabbed. You’re just so easy to talk to and, and, well, I...” Her voice trailed away.
I waved a hand at Rebecca in reassurance. “I understand. It’s all right.”
“Thank you, Sibyl.”
Jeeves whined and started to fidget in the tub, apparently picking up on his owner’s distress.
Rebecca refused to give any further details, but it was clear to me that there was a lot more to the slip. I tried to piece it together as I finished grooming Jeeves. Why would Greg make millions on his wife’s death? Insurance? That was beyond my comprehension. Even if his wife carried that kind of policy, why would Greg be talking to a small town lawyer about it? Why not his own? I imagined Greg had a whole team of lawyers. Why Jed?
Whatever was going on, Rebecca had been dying to say something to somebody about it. It sounded like more than an insurance matter to me. But what?
After I’d finished grooming Jeeves and had left the property, I pulled out my phone and called Blake’s cell phone. To my relief he picked up on the second ring.
“Hey, Sibyl.”
“Hi.” I felt sick to my stomach. Perhaps it was simply my imagination, but he had sounded a little annoyed that I had called. “Sorry if I caught you at a bad time, but have you heard that Greg would make millions from his wife’s death?”
“Say what?” Blake asked in a distracted tone.
“I heard around town that Greg stands to make millions from his wife’s death. Is that possible?”
“Sibyl, I’m sorry.” Blake cut me off. “I’ll call you back shortly. Something’s come up.”
“Oh, oh, right, sorry,” I stammered as I felt my face burn. “Sorry I bothered you.”
“It’s no bother. Sorry ‘bout this. Talk to you later,” Blake said quickly, and the line went silent as he cut the connection.
I swallowed, tasting a sour tang in the back of my throat as the drink Rebecca had made me threatened to come back up. Blake and I hadn’t really talked since the incident at the café, and I knew he hadn’t been happy to see me there. However, I didn’t think he would be annoyed with me. I tried to rationalize the situation. Perhaps I had called him in the middle of a job.
Blake also could have been visiting his ex-girlfriend. I stared at the steering wheel as I clenched and unclenched my hands, trying to calm my thoughts. I blinked my eyes rapidly to clear them, replaying the call over and over again in my mind. Maybe he had just been working, or maybe he found the pretty ex-girlfriend better company?
By the time I got home that night, I was no closer to an answer. I fed Sandy and my cockatoo, Max, and then took a bath. I had intended to have a nice, long bath, but my stomach was churning over Blake, so I soon hopped out.
I’d lost my appetite, so instead of dinner, I made a vegemite and cheese sandwich and gobbled it down. Just as I was about to pour myself a glass of wine, there was a knock at the door. I smiled. A visit from Cressida or Mr. Buttons would certainly cheer me up.
It wasn’t Cressida or Mr. Buttons on the other side of the door. It was Blake, and he was clutching a large bag. “Sorry,” Blake said. “I haven’t been able to return your call, so thought I should come in person. My phone was accidentally smashed.”
“Your phone was accidentally smashed?” I said.
“The accident part is probably a stretch. It’s a long story.” Blake paused. “Mind if I come in?”
“Oh yes, of course.” I stood aside to let him in. “Wine? Or are you on duty?”
Blake gestured to his everyday clothes. “Finished for the day. Yes, please.” I handed him a glass of wine, and he continued. “What were you saying about Greg and millions? Sorry, I didn’t hear it so well. I was dealing with a miniature apocalypse in the park.”
To say I was relieved was somewhat of an understatement. So he wasn’t avoiding me after all? Blake had already taken a seat on my sofa, so I sat opposite him, my wine in hand. I took a large gulp and then told Blake everything that Rebecca had told me. “And so there’s a chance Greg did have a motive for murdering his wife after all,” I concluded, “but then again, Rebecca might’ve got the whole thing mixed up.”
Blake rubbed his chin. “I’ll certainly look into it.”
“So what happened today? You said your phone was accidentally smashed?”
“Rachel threw it onto the highway while we were arguing in the main street,” Blake said, before finishing the last of his wine. His brows furrowed into an annoyed expression.
“Oh.” My stomach churned. Why was Blake arguing with his ex-girlfriend?
“Yes,” Blake continued. “She’s one of the protesters, but, I suspect, not for the right reasons. I’m all for everyone having their different beliefs, but she says that ghosts of deceased people appear and tell her things.”
I waved my hand. “I do believe in that sort of thing, though,” I said.
Blake held up his hands in a gesture of hopelessness. “To be specific, back when we were dating, she told me that my grandfather appeared to her and said he had a cat called Patches. I told her that my grandfather and his parents were all allergic to cats, and none of them ever owned a single cat. She insisted that I was wrong.”
I nodded. “I see what you mean. I’m sure some people can hear from ghosts, but I’m just as sure that some people think they can, but can’t.”
Blake rubbed his forehead. “She took a bunch of essential oils out to the wilderness and poured them on bushes. I told her that type of thing would harm the environment, but she said that a spirit of a wombat told her to do it.”
I shook my head. “I’m beginning to get the picture.”
Blake let out an irritated sigh. “She’s the type of person who would release budgerigars from their cages, despite the fact that they wouldn’t survive in the wild. Next she’ll probably try to free the animals from the zoo back at her hometown. Today she told me that she planned to climb a tree in the wilderness area and live in it. She threw my phone onto the highway when I went to call her boyfriend to come and take her back home.”
“She has a boyfriend?” I asked in surprise. I didn’t know what part of that story surprised me more. The mental image of the girl swinging around branches like a monkey, sweaty and her hair tangled like a feminine Tarzan, did not fit the image of the attractive woman I had seen, nor did the fact she had a boyfriend who apparently went along with this kind of stuff. A boyfriend who was not Blake, I thought, as my face broke into a wide smile.
